


The Drawer Labeled Misc.

by yashkonu



Category: RWBY
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-04-23 14:31:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 10,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4880449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yashkonu/pseuds/yashkonu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of mini-fics and other assorted bits and pieces from my tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Prompt: Yang and Nora can't stop trying to one-up each other.**

Weiss sighed, and Pyrrha mirrored her. This whole ordeal was her own fault, really, since she _had_ been the one to muse aloud that Nora was the only person at Beacon with an appetite more voracious than Yang’s. She should have known her girlfriend would take it as a challenge, and that Nora would egg her on until, well, _this_ happened.

It had started with a pancake eating contest, officiated by Blake and Ren, who were as close to impartial as anyone on their teams could be. When Yang won that (by half a pancake), things had begun to escalate. A best-of-seven set of sparring matches (Nora won, 4-3), a race to the Emerald Forest and back (they had both managed to get horribly lost until Ruby had gone looking for them. It was deemed a draw), and a girlfriend bench-pressing contest (Also deemed a draw, on the grounds that Pyrrha weighed something like double what Weiss did) hadn’t been too bad, but then that wily faunus just _had_ to get involved.

As Yang and Nora had agonized over what else they could compete on, the most devious smile Weiss had ever seen had crept onto Blake’s face. They had closed their book – which, given what book it was, should have been a dead giveaway for what was to follow – and suggested that the pair settle the matter in bed.

Before Weiss and Pyrrha could recover enough to muster an indignant shriek, they had outlined the terms. Yang and Weiss would have team RWBY’s room to themselves for the night, and Nora and Pyrrha would have JNPR’s. The remainder of the teams would stay the night with team CFVY, and in the morning Weiss and Pyrrha would be called on to pass judgement. Weiss’s indignation had faltered just enough for her to allow herself to be roped into it. She could easily have said no, but Yang could be _very_ determined when her competitive side was roused, and Weiss’s curiosity got the better of her.

And now she could hardly walk. Next to her, Pyrrha’s knees were still shaking a bit. Worth it.

“So?” Yang asked impatiently, “Who won?”

Weiss gave Pyrrha a long-suffering look, and received a shrug in return.

“Yang, you _do_ realize we can’t actually answer that, right? There’s no way for us to compare something like this without-”

“Oh! So tonight we should swap and _then_ you’ll be able to-”

“ _No, Nora.”_


	2. Chapter 2

**Prompt: ‘i’m in my underpants in a laundromat waiting for my clothes to get washed and your clothes are in the machine next to mine and i noticed that when you put your clothes in they were all covered in blood what the fuck’ au**

It was most definitely not Velvet’s day. Night. Morning? A glance at the cracked screen of her phone confirmed that yes, morning was the right word. It was nearly four and here she was, nearly naked in an empty laundromat, watching her favorite outfit tumble along in the wash.

Her long ears drooped at the thought of how pathetic she must look, and she winced as the movement aggravated the gash which scored the back of one. She just needed to get the mud out of her clothes and get back to her apartment without running into any more faunus-hating punks. If she could manage that, she’d be fine. Eventually.

She couldn’t stand going to the laundromat. The whole process was just so… public. Once she saved up enough, maybe got a raise or two, she could get out of her crummy two-room apartment on the wrong side of town and stop having to come here. She hated the waiting, the feeling of being scrutinized, the way the place always smelled just a bit like mildew and blood–

Wait.

Blood?

Another washer, two down from hers, clicked open and Velvet jumped with a startled ‘meep’ she couldn’t quite suppress. A slender, muscular, feline faunus was peeling away layers of clothing soiled with dirt and blood, tossing them into the washer unceremoniously. Velvet willed her eyes away from their sleek, toned figure – she had never seen quite so many corded muscles on one back before – and fixed her eyes on her hands, folded tightly in her lap.

How had she not heard them arrive? There was a bell on the door and everything, not to mention her ears should have clearly picked up the faunus’s footsteps. A thought struck her, and her eyes flitted up to trace the newcomer’s form as surreptitiously as possible.

“It’s not mine, if that’s what you’re wondering.” She jumped again at the husky voice, and looked up nervously to meet a sidelong gaze from glowing amber eyes.

“Ah! I, uh, I’m sorry, I… didn’t mean to stare, I just-”

“It’s fine.”

Silence settled again. After a few minutes of fidgeting in embarrassment, Velvet risked another glance over to the other faunus. They were _watching her_. Rather intently, at that.

“Is your ear okay? That cut looks pretty nasty.”

“I-it’s fine, really. I just… ran into the wrong crowd. You know how it is.”

“Wait… when you say wrong crowd, do you mean those punks who were hanging around that alley by Junior’s?”

“I… yeah, actually. How did you…?” The faunus nodded at their clothes, tossing in the washer, then flashed a smile that was just predatory enough to make Velvet squirm.

“They won’t be bothering you anymore. I’m Blake, by the way.”

Velvet found herself wondering if there was a word for feeling afraid and aroused at the same time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Prompt: ‘last night was a haze for both of us and somehow we woke up hungover in a bed that isn’t either of ours and also neither of us recognize this apartment we should probably get out of here before someone calls the cops on us’ au**

Blake was awoken by a thin beam of sunlight, falling through the blinds to pierce her head like a lance. She groaned at the pounding in her sensitive ears and attempted to pull the blankets up over her head. They barely budged, though the movement was enough to dislodge several empty bottles that had been strewn across her.

Looking to her left, Blake discovered the reason why. She was not, in fact, alone in the bed. A slender girl with black hair highlighted by red was curled against her side, and drooling gently onto her shirt. The mystery girl’s brow creased at Blake’s shifting, and she let out a long, pathetic groan.

“Mmfgnhead.” She mumbled, and Blake nodded in sympathy. After a moment’s groggy thought, the girl whipped her head up to look at Blake with a startled _bwuh?!_

“Hey.” Blake’s mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton. “I’m Blake, in case you can’t remember my name either.”

“MmRuby. Nicet’meeyou, Blage.”

“Nice to meet you too, Ruby.” Blake sat up gingerly, looking about the room while she massaged her aching temples. Then she noticed the _other_ girl in bed with them.

“Holy shit.”

Ruby rolled with another groan to follow Blake’s gaze, then gasped.

“Blake, is that _Weiss Schnee?”_

“That is absolutely Weiss fucking Schnee. We absolutely probably had some kind of sex with Weiss fucking Schnee.”

“And I _can’t remember it?_ How is that fair?!”

“Fate plays cruel games with us all.” Blake shifted to slide out of the bed as silently as possible. “I don’t feel like talking to any lawyers, though, so I think I’m going to clean up and get out of here before she wakes up. Do you mind if I use your bathroom, Ruby?”

“ _My_ bathroom? I thought this was _your_ place.”

Blake froze. This did not look like a Weiss fucking Schnee kind of apartment. It definitely wasn’t her own – for one thing, it was nicer than hers – and if it wasn’t Ruby’s…

“Ruby? Whose apartment is this?”

“I… don’t know?”

Perfect. As if the debilitating hangover wasn’t bad enough, she had apparently also boned a perfect stranger and the heiress to a multi-billion dollar dust mining and refinement corporation – in someone else’s apartment.

“Okay Ruby, I would _really_ like to not go to jail, so we should probably get out of here ASAP. Can you…” She couldn’t believe she was even saying this. “Can you try to wake her up?”

“ _Wake her up?!_ She’d _kill_ me! Or sue me! I don’t know which is worse!”

“I know, but we can’t just leave her drunk and unconscious in a stranger’s house, can we?”

Ruby looked conflicted, but in the end her conscience won out. “Fine, fine.”

Blake ducked into the bathroom, splashed some cold water on her face, checked herself over in the mirror, and headed back into the bedroom.

“So…” Ruby looked worried. “She’s not waking up.”

_“What?!”_

“Don’t get mad at _me!_ When I tried to wake her up she just bit my hand and rolled over!”

And that was how Blake found herself lugging a dozing heiress around an apartment building she’d never seen before in her life, while Ruby checked ahead to make sure the coast was clear. Not, perhaps, her most dignified morning, but at least she was in good company. She’d have to remember to get Ruby’s number, once they figured out what to do with an unconscious girl worth more than they’d make in ten lifetimes.


	4. Chapter 4

**Prompt: Ruby realizes Penny is a weapon she can date.**

It’s a big sister thing, probably. When you live with someone under your wing long enough, all their little quirks and mannerisms become a language of their own, understood only by a select few. A murmur can speak a paragraph, a look can tell a story, a shifted center of balance can fill a hundred blanks and connect a thousand dots. It reminded Yang of those paintings made up of an ocean of little points of paint. Most people would only ever see a few dots, and naturally had no idea that there was a greater meaning to their arrangement. _She_ had been around long enough to know them all by heart, so well that the sight of just a few could tell her exactly what part of the painting she was looking at.

So when Ruby gets _that one look_ in her eye, and when she chews her lip _just like that_ , Yang knows without a doubt that something’s up. Something kinda weird, actually, because _that look_ is the look she gets when she has Crescent Rose reduced to gleaming viscera before her, and a hundred tools Yang could never hope to name strewn across the floor, and the last time she chewed her lip _just like that_ was right before Yang caught her with one of Blake’s books. Yes, _those_ books. Yang never planned to let her live it down.

It was a puzzle, even to the heightened perception of a veteran big sis. Somehow, Ruby was caught between her itch to tinker and dissect, her deep admiration for all things finely-tuned and death-dealing, and some pretty intense horny. That was a hell of a combo, even for Ruby. Maybe she was revisiting one of her scrapped plans for a more _sensitive_ Crescent Rose? Something in her gut told her there was more to it than that, though, and it was her sworn sororal duty to find out what.

She let the textbook she had been half-reading drop onto the bed next to her and rose, working a few deep, satisfying pops out of her spine as she did so. She sauntered across the room, taking note of Weiss and Blake’s conspicuous absence. Knowing those two, they were probably off at the library, “studying.” Studying, her ass. Well, Blake’s ass, more likely. Weiss had predictable tastes. Yang dropped her weight onto the edge of Ruby’s bunk, hard enough to jostle her diminutive sister.

“So.”

“Uh… So…?” Ruby looked sheepish.

“So, what’s eatin’ you, sis? And don’t even _think_ about saying ‘nothing,’ you know I know you better than that.”

“It’s…” Ruby glanced around the room, making absolutely sure they were alone. “You can’t tell _anyone_ about this, okay? Not even Pyrrha. Promise?”

Yang rolled her eyes, but acquiesced anyway. “Of course, Rubes. If it’s that important, these lips are sealed. Now what’s got you so worked up?”

“It’s… you remember that girl we ran into a couple times during all that stuff with the White Fang last year?”

Yang took a moment to think. Honestly, they had met quite a few girls during all that business. There was the cute one with the green hair and the crop-top, the unsettlingly hot one with the kinda glowy eyes, the _really_ cute one who had nearly put a sword through Yang’s ribs… _Ah._ She had forgotten one, hadn’t she? There was that tiny girl Ruby had run off with; the one with the surprising number of swords hidden in her chest cavity and the whole ‘able-to-shoot-lasers’ thing. A knowing look crept onto Yang’s face.

“Redhead? Kinda short? Green eyes, green lasers?”

Ruby was steadily turning as red as her namesake. “Y-yes? Her name’s Penny.” Ruby fiddled with her sleeve as she spoke.

_Oh man,_ Yang thought, _if she’s doing the sleeve thing she’s got it BAD._

“Alright sis, spill. What’s up with you and robo-girl 3000?”

“ _Yang!_ She has a name, okay? Just because she’s a robot doesn’t mean she isn’t a person, too!”

“Woah, slow down there sis.” Yang held her hands up defensively at the outburst. “Now, I had thought that 'robot' and 'person' were pretty much mutually exclusive, so you’re gonna have to run that by me in a bit more detail, okay?”

Ruby huffed. “I did some digging after we met her. She’s not just some robot with a complex set of instructions driving it, like the Knights and Paladins. She’s a _fully_ learning AI.”

Yang looked nonplussed. “O...kay, I’m gonna guess by the emphasis on ‘fully learning’ that that’s a big deal, but for those of us less involved in the whole,” she waved her hands vaguely, “ _science_ , thing, maybe you could explain?”

Ruby shifted into her 'talking about weaponry' tone of voice, somewhere between instructive and excited. “That means she’s capable of learning and adapting to new experiences in the same way humans and faunus do, Yang. It means that as far as mental stuff goes, she’s just as alive as anyone else. _Plus_ , she has an aura, which I didn’t even think was possible! She has a _soul_.” That hungry look from earlier was back in full force.

Yang pondered her sister's words for a moment. “Alright, let me see if I've got this straight. She’s a robot, but she’s also alive, and you’re nursing a hopeless crush on her.”

“ _Yang!”_

“Oh, come on Rubes. If I couldn’t figure _that_ much out from this conversation I wouldn’t be much of a big sis, would I?” Yang smirked, and Ruby gave a sheepish grin in return.

"Yeah, alright, I'm crushing hard on a robot girl. Is that weird?"

"Weirder than the heiress to an internationally faunus-hating dust corporation making out with an ex-Fang faunus girl in the private study rooms? Probably not."

"Is _that_ why they're always studying together?"

Yang ruffled her sister's hair with a laugh. "Nothing gets past you, eh fearless leader? Anyway, if you're so interested in Penny, why don't you ask her out? If she's a 'fully learning AI' or whatever, she should be able to figure out how dating works just fine."

"Well, _yeah_ , but... I mean, she's technically property of the Atlas military, and I don't think they're gonna be too interested in letting her go on... y'know, dates..." She trailed off at the last word, as though saying it out loud might make her fragile hopes too real.

Yang cocked her head, her wild mane shifting with the movement. "Now, stop me if I'm wrong here, but isn't that kinda debatable?" at Ruby's steadily rising eyebrow, she continued. "I mean, she's just as intelligent as any human or faunus, and she's got some kind of soul, right? In my book, that makes her a person, and I don't think you can really _own_ a person. Even if you built them."

Something bright and sharp lit up in Ruby's silver eyes, like the polished edge of a blade. "You really think so?"

Yang clapped a hand to her sister's back. "I _absolutely_ think so, Rubes." Ruby stood suddenly, and headed for the door. "Rubes? Where are you off to?"

She answered over her shoulder with a grin that belied a hundred plans in the making. "I'm gonna go have a chat with Weiss about a lawyer and an ethics lawsuit. And _then_ I think I'm gonna ask a cute weapon if she wants to get lunch."


	5. Weiss Has the Gay Dream

**Prompt: Weiss having a dream about pampering Yang and being a good girlfriend when she thinks she's straight and assumes the same about Yang.** ****

Weiss couldn't quite suppress a smile and a chiming little laugh when the oven timer dinged; she had timed it all out perfectly. She carefully removed her lovingly prepared quiche from the oven and set it atop the stove. A glance at the clock confirmed that it would have just enough time to cool before her darling's return.

"Hey, sweet cheeks," a husky voice called from somewhere behind her, "something smells _wonderful_." The last word was a throaty purr, and the sound, so close to her ears, sent a shiver down her spine.

"Welcome home, love," she gasped back as a warm weight pressed her firmly against the bathroom counter.

_Bathroom? Wasn't I-_

Powerful bronze arms wrapped around her slender frame, and she shivered again at the press of warm lips against her nape and the cascade of wild blonde over her shoulders.

"Y-You..." Weiss cleared her throat, hoping to banish the tremor from her voice. "You're _covered_ in sweat. Did you skip showering after your workout again?"

Fingers trailed lazily along her bare thigh. "Mmm... you're the one making dinner in your underwear. The 'kiss the cook' apron was a nice touch, though."

Weiss half-barked a nervous laugh. " _You_ need to shower before you're kissing anyone. I'll go get you something to change into." Those muscular arms withdrew with a grumbled affirmative, and Weiss beat a hasty retreat. If she played along with every urge and temptation that girl put in her head, they'd never get anything done.

She crossed the empty main hall of Schnee manor, her bare feet slapping against the cool marble, and entered team RWBY's dorm.

_Wait, that's not-_

Her lover's clothes were always in the top drawer, a mass of gold and tan and black kept orderly only by Weiss's dedicated efforts. She picked out a loose pair of sweatpants and an oversized shirt and made her way back to the bathroom.

Just as she set the clothes in a neat pile on the counter, those devilishly toned arms found their way around her once again, this time slick with warm water. She was lifted -- without apparent effort -- into the cascade of steaming water. She shrieked and opened her mouth to protest, only to have her breath stolen by soft lips, meeting her own with unbridled hunger. Her hands rose to trace the rigid curves and creases along her lover's shoulders, and calloused fingers in turn found purchase on her hips. Then those weathered hands moved to _just the right place_ and she broke the kiss with a gasp.

_"Yang-"_

* * *

Weiss jolted awake.

_Okay brain, what the_ hell _was that?_

"So." Across the room, Blake was lounging with a book, eyeing her with unconcealed amusement. "Want to talk about it?"

Oh, dust. "T-talk about what?"

"Well, I was thinking we could start with why you were gasping my partner's name in your sleep and work from there." Blake had the most _infuriating_ smirk.

“W-was I? I… don’t remember what I was dreaming about,” she mumbled, a bit too hastily, “It could have been anything, I suppose.”

“Oh really?” Blake snapped her book shut and crossed the room to sit beside her. “Then my next question is why you’re beet-red right now.” A few stammered attempts at excuses did nothing to dissuade Blake’s knowing grin. “Weiss, did you have… the Gay Dream?”

_“What?!”_ Weiss mustered all of her failing indignation for what she hoped was a convincing shriek.

“Nope, you’re not fooling anyone like that. You _totally_ just had the Gay Dream.”

“What do you mean, and why does it sound like you’re capitalizing that? I’ll have you know that I am _entirely_ heterosexual, thank you _very_ much.”

Weiss was not entirely fond of the sidelong look Blake was giving her. “Uh- _huh_. Y’know, Ruby said pretty much the same thing, and look how _that_ turned out.” Weiss spared a glance to where Ruby was still napping in Blake’s bunk. She knew full well how that had turned out. “Anyway, when I say ‘the Gay Dream,’ I just mean a particularly _vivid_ dream about you and Yang.”

“I…” bracing herself, Weiss made the decision to confide in her teammate. It wasn’t like there was anyone _else_ on her team who could be trusted to keep a secret. “...yeah, it was pretty… vivid.” She suppressed a shiver. Those deltoids had been particularly detailed. She had to wonder how her subconscious had memorized them with that kind of clarity.

“Want to tell me about it? Yang won’t be back for a while yet, and talking it over might help you work things out in your head.” For all her mirth, there was an earnest note to Blake’s voice.

Weiss nodded, swallowing hard. How did people just _talk_ about this kind of thing? “It… I was making dinner, I think, and Yang got home from the gym, “ Blake was doing her utmost to keep the corners of her mouth from twitching upwards. “And she kinda… pinned me to the counter, and…” She trailed off. A frustrating warmth was building in the pit of her stomach.

“...And?” Blake’s ears were twitching.

“A-and I made her take a shower, and went to get her a change of clothes.” Weiss blinked. “They were all folded.” They both turned to look at the team’s shared dresser, and the rumpled mass of clothes spilling from the top drawer.

“Oh, Weiss. You have got it _bad,”_ Blake chuckled around a sympathetic grin, “So, after you retrieved these neatly folded clothes?”

“She was in the shower, and she picked me up, and we… ah…” Weiss squirmed.

“... I think I can guess without the play-by-play. So? Where does that leave you?”

“I… I don’t _know!_ How am I supposed to feel about having sudden domestic fantasies about a teammate? Besides, even if I am interested in her, she’s probably not interested in… girls… what is that look for?”

“Weiss, Yang is gay as the day is long. How in the world did you miss that?”

Weiss flushed, but before she could muster a reply the door to the room clicked open and Yang, glistening with perspiration and clad only in a sports bra and shorts that were _entirely_ too tight, strode into the room.

_Ah,_ Weiss thought, _so_ this _is how I die._

“Hey girls, what’s up?” A concerned look came to Yang’s face. “Weiss, are you alright? You look kinda flushed.” She strode over to Weiss, bending down to inspect her face more closely. Weiss, for her part, tried valiantly to keep her eyes from straying south. “You’re really red, Weiss. You don’t have a fever, do you?”

_Remember me when I’m gone, everyone. It’s been good knowing you all._

Then Yang pressed her lips against Weiss’s forehead.

“Yeah, you’re _really_ war- Weiss?! Are you okay? Blake, _what_ is so funny?”


	6. It's Okay to be Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feat. Werewolf Ruby

**Prompt: "Ruby contracts lycanthropy and Penny and she can have kinky werewolf sex without worrying about it spreading because Penny is a gynoid"**

 

Ruby eyed the rising moon warily and huffed a sigh, turning back to face her computer screen. “Are you _sure_?”

Amid an ocean of progress bars and rapidly scrolling output logs, text began to appear in your specially prepared window. _That is the seventeenth time you’ve asked that, Ruby._

Ruby scowled. “I _know_ it’s – well I didn’t know it was exactly 17 times but – it’s just not _safe_ , okay?”

She stared down the idly blinking cursor for a moment before your words began to form once more. _You’re a werewolf, love. “Safe” is relative here. It’s safer than anything else, and I’ve already done all thi_

The text cut out as the last progress bar hit 100%. Behind her, you sat up suddenly, rubbed at your eyes, and began to disconnect the glowing cables and wires that snaked along the floor and into your body.

“It’s _still_ weird seeing both of your bodies in the same room,” Ruby remarked with a glance at the powered-down combat chassis.

You chuckled, working your jaw a bit to get used to the feeling. “ _You_ think it’s weird? Still, I’d rather deal with the weirdness than not be able to do this.” Your combat chassis was perfectly suited for just that – combat. When it came to more… sensitive matters, the cold alloys and rigid plastics were of little use. Besides, it was missing some fairly important components. When you had begun dating in earnest, Ruby spent the better part of six months designing, prototyping, and eventually constructing a body better equipped for intimacy. You preferred it to its more deadly counterpart, when given the choice.

Ruby rubbed her arm anxiously. The moonlight was starting to affect her. “Yeah, about… ‘this.’ I know I keep asking the same thing, but I’m worried, y’know? After last time…”

You stepped close and pressed a finger to her lips. “I _loved_ last time. I know how you get when you’re transformed, and this is the best way we can handle it. Remember what happened with Weiss?”

How could she _forget_? Weiss was certainly in no hurry to let her live it down. It was fun watching the CEO of the Schnee Dust Company try to make excuses for her conspicuous absence every full moon, though. “Yeah, I remember. It’s just…” Her gaze dropped to the floor. Try as she might, the words just wouldn’t come.

You pressed a warm synthetic hand to her cheek, tilting her head gently until your eyes met, pulling her close enough for your foreheads to touch. “I trust you, Ruby.“

“I’ll hurt you.”

“You can’t hurt me.”

“Then I’ll break you.”

“Then you’ll just have to put my pieces back together.”

You felt her shiver, then nod against your skin.

 

* * *

 

She’s heat and friction, warm wet friction that shoots lightning bolts of pleasure through veins you don’t have, makes you gasp for air you don’t need as she grinds against your face.

She’s flesh and breath, steaming hot enough to fog your eyes as they lock to her own. She growls and pushes deeper and the world goes white and you’re trembling and you can’t stop. You hope she never stops, either. Her grip tightens on your legs and something cracks inside them. You hope she never, ever stops.

She’s fur and teeth and claws, tearing into flesh her hands created. You watch her do it, watch the muscles and tendons flex and strain beneath her skin as they expose what’s under yours. You tell her you love her; she can’t talk but her eyes say _I love you too_.

When it’s over and you both can barely move she lies beside you, holds you close and whispers affection and apology. You tell her it’s okay to be broken, because you have someone who’ll fix you.


	7. Set a Thief

Blake’s hands twitched, so she crammed them in her pockets. She had been standing in a deep shadow in the corner of this damned jeweler for hours, and watching the assembled finery twinkle at her with every passing car was getting to be unbearable.

Fucking police work. She almost wished she’d just taken the life sentence. How hard could breaking out of prison be? But no, she had taken the easy way out and accepted the offer to “pay her debt to society” by helping the cops. She rubbed at the tracker anklet with the toe of her shoe. It itched. They’d even given her a badge, the condescending pricks.

She got the whole “set a thief” thing they were going for in recruiting her, and they were probably right to do so -- it wasn’t like any of _them_ were going to stand a chance -- but as she had insisted on many occasions, Sustrai was just plain out of her league. The woman was a _ghost_. The only reason anyone even knew the name was because she had written it in glossy green lipstick in the place of a stolen painting. The memory brought a grin to Blake’s lips. She could respect a thief with a flair for the dramatic.

Months on the case and she hardly felt like she was getting any closer to her target; she had yet to catch even a glimpse of her. What she _had_ managed to do was figure out her pattern, to an extent. With a map of Vale and enough pins and thread, Blake had managed to find the path the master thief was taking. Problem was, even knowing the path left her with more than a few possible targets for each hit. She couldn’t be everywhere, and she didn’t dare ask the police to stake out the other locations, for fear that Sustrai would catch on and change her pattern. She would just have to keep trying, and hope she got it right. If she did… well, Blake hadn’t really planned that far.

Her ears twitched at the subtle rasping of a lock being picked.

_Holy shit, I actually did it._

She crouched and went stock-still in the shadows, willing her breath as slow and silent as possible. A lithe, dark-skinned woman crept in from the shop’s back entrance, silent as passing moonlight even to faunus ears. Were it not for Blake’s night vision, Sustrai would have been a shadow among shadows, invisible.

For fifteen agonizing minutes Sustrai just stood, motionless, listening intently. Ensuring she was alone, Blake assumed. She knew the thief wouldn’t hear her -- if she couldn’t hear herself, no human stood a chance -- but the thrill of being so close to her quarry drove her heart to pound so hard she feared it would give her away.

When Sustrai finally moved, flowing across the shop like dark water to begin emptying the safe behind the counter, Blake followed. She slipped a compact stun-gun from her pocket as she approached, forcing her hands steady and ignoring the thrumming in her chest until she was close enough to-

“I was wondering when you’d show up.”

She froze. Sustrai hadn’t even stopped her work cracking the safe; hadn’t acknowledged her presence in any way other than the words.

“Took long enough for you to catch on, yeah? I was starting to wonder if you’d given up on finding me.” The safe door clicked, and as it swung open Sustrai turned to grin toothily at her would-be captor, mischief shining in her eyes.

Blake’s mouth was suddenly dry, for some reason. She gathered her wits, took stock of the situation, and spoke with purpose and authority. “Huh?”

The thief just chuckled and leaned over the open safe door to smirk at her. “Brought you a present.” Seemingly from thin air, she produced a complex electronic key.

“... Is that the key to my tracker? How in the _hell_ -”

“Oh, but that would be telling.” There was a pout to her voice that turned playful as she continued. “So, my little cat burglar, do you plan to sit around this dump all night, or are we gonna go have some fun? Unless you’d rather run back to the boys in blue empty-handed again, that is.” She dangled Blake’s stun-gun in front of her face. When had she…?

After a bit more confused stammering, Blake’s brain finally managed to catch up to events, and she grinned. “I like the way you think, Sustrai.”

“I like that you’ve finally decided to. And by _all_ means,” she shoved the contents of the safe into a small pack as she spoke, “call me Emerald.”

When the police arrived the next morning the store was barren, save for an abandoned tracker anklet set tastefully on an otherwise empty display rack. Behind it, writ large on the wall in glossy black lipstick, was the name _Belladonna_.


	8. Chapter 8

**Prompt: **Blake lives in an apartment next to grade-A asswipe Cardin Winchester, who has taken to abusing a cat lately. Blake swipes kitty, Cardin calls the cops. The cat, as it happens, is Werecat Rutabaga, who turns human before the cops turn up and bails Blake out. They kiss, probably****

Blake lay on their back, stared at the ceiling, and contemplated homicide. On the other side of their paper-thin apartment wall, their asswipe neighbor was apparently trying to skin his cat alive. A weary glance at the clock beside their bed confirmed that yes, it was now officially two in the morning. For the past hour and a half, the apartment next door had been a cacophony of yowling, cursing, and domestic destruction of impressive variety.

Cardin being intolerable wasn’t exactly a recent development, by any means, but it was only yesterday that the _cat_ had entered the picture. Blake assumed he had picked it up as a deliberate jab at them. He was a racist little shit, and had yet to refer to Blake as anything other than “cat,” “kitten,” “fleabag,” or, in a show of creativity, “that bitch.” At least the last one wasn’t _as_ racist, for what it was worth. He was the type of guy whose idea of a pleasant evening involved hucking half-empty beer bottles at faunus walking under his third-floor apartment. Not exactly “responsible pet owner” material, to put it lightly.

Resigning themself to a sleepless nigh- morning, Blake huffed angrily and stepped out onto the balcony for some fresh air. The summer had been muggier than usual --  something about a tidal shift off the coast of Menagerie shuffling weather patterns around -- and naturally their cheapskate landlord hadn’t bothered to fix the A/C on Blake’s floor. They leaned against the balcony railing, eyeing the sleeping city with vague disdain and fanning themselves halfheartedly.

Then a potted plant soared through Cardin’s sliding door with a crash of shattering plate glass that nearly scared Blake out of their skin, and a huge, black, panicked-looking cat leapt onto the railing, scrambled across to Blake’s balcony, and dove at them. To their credit, Blake somehow managed to recover from the shock quickly enough to catch the flailing feline. They shared a dumbfounded look with the scraggly lump of fur before a furious Cardin barreled out onto the opposing balcony, still cursing.

“When I get a hold of you, you _fucking-_ ” His gaze shot to Blake, then the cat in her arms, then back again, and his mouth split into a cruel grin.

“W-wait, I-”

“Are you _stealing_ my _animal,_ fleabag? How _ironic._ ” A scroll appeared in Cardin’s hand, and he tapped at it quickly before lifting it to his ear.

“N-no, wait! It just jumped-”

“Yeah, I’m at Searchlight Suites, room 312, my neighbor just stole my pet and-”

Blake darted back into their room, panic rising in their throat. Not the police not that _anything but the police_

They had had far too many dealings with the police already, and for a faunus that kind of thing could be deadly. If the police thought they were stealing from a human… They threw the cat away from their chest, suddenly fearful of the creature. It landed on all fours on their bed, shot them an irritated look, and…

There was no other word for it. One form blurring at the edges while another grew distinct, like a passing handshake in the most disturbing and anatomically improbable way imaginable. By the time Blake managed to shake their head in disbelief, a slender, black-haired and _extremely_ naked young woman was luxuriating on their bed.

“Hey beautiful,” she said, as though nothing particularly unusual had just happened. Blake was still catching up, and couldn’t manage a reply. Cardin was mad at the cat and the cat was in their room and the cat was on their bed and the cat was a _person_ and the person was naked on their bed and called them beautiful and they would probably have all this figured out in a week or two. Maybe three.

“Uh, you okay?" After a moment's thought, she glanced down at herself. "Oh! I’m naked, huh? Lemme just,” the woman leapt to her feet with catli- remarkable grace, and threw on what could loosely be described as an outfit using Blake’s wardrobe. Whoever -- _what_ ever -- she was, she didn’t seem to be particularly good at color-coordination. "I uh, guess I owe you an explanation, yeah?"

Blake nodded, a bit absently. They were beginning to collect themselves, but now they were distracted for an entirely different reason. Jaw-length hair, black with red highlights. Silver eyes, with slitted pupils to match Blake's own. A lithe figure, though subtle movements betrayed toned muscle beneath _oh shit am I staring has she noticed oh shit oh fuck_

A twinkle of mischief lit her eyes, but she contented herself to sit on the end of Blake's bed, crossing her legs in a single fluid motion. "So... I'm a werecat! If, y'know, that explains anything. I can switch back and forth between feline and human form pretty much at will, though I try not to let humans know. Faunus are okay, though."

Another distant nod from Blake, and the woman -- werecat, apparently -- gave them a smirk tinged with worry. "Uh, hello? Ground control to Major Cutie? What's your status Major Cutie?"

_Did she really just call me Major Cutie oh come on that's not fai-_

A pounding at the door and a call of "police, open up!" cut into their thoughts.

"That absolute _fuck_ , he actually called the cops on-" Blake whipped around to face the mystery werecat, their voice nearly a growl. "Look, just -- just _hide_ or something while I try not to get myself killed or arrested or something, okay?"

They ran to the door, fighting to keep the apprehension from their voice. "Can I help you, officer?"

The officer in question looked more exasperated than anything else, and Blake honestly couldn't blame her. There were better things for a VCPD officer to be doing at this hour than responding to 'my neighbor stole my cat' calls. "We got a report that someone in this apartment, ah, _stole a cat?_ " She sighed. "Look, I don't want to deal with this any more than you do, so if you have the damn thing, _please_ just-"

Something warm and soft pressed into Blake's back, and the officer trailed off, staring over their shoulder with steadily widening eyes. Warm lips and a hint of teeth pressed against Blake's neck and they gasped despite themself, shivering at the touch.

A singsong voice murmured in their ear, just loud enough for the now-blushing officer to hear. "Come back to bed, dear~"

The officer cleared her throat, struggling to maintain eye contact. From the warmth against their back and the policewoman's expression, it seemed Blake's visitor had abandoned her borrowed outfit. "Well, you two seem to be... ah... th-that is... have a nice night, citizens." With that, she strode away stiffly, perhaps a bit faster than was really needed.

Teeth nipped at Blake's ear as they swung the door shut. "I'm Ruby, by the way."


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Nora challenges Pyrrha to a test of strength.

“For the last time, Nora, no.”

“Aw, c’mon! What, are you worried you’ll lose?”

“No, Nora, I’m concerned you’ll hurt yourself. And besides, how would you know if I started cheating? I could just use my semblance to lift any weight in the gym.”

“You _could,_ sure, but you _wouldn’t_. The great Pyrrha Nikos wouldn’t want to win on anything but fair terms, right?”

Pyrrha flinched. Nora could be startlingly perceptive. “That aside, you of all people could easily overdo it, and we’ve got midterms coming up. How are you going to get through the combat exam with a torn bicep?”

“Oh please,” she laughed, waving away Pyrrha’s concern, “I know my limits perfectly well. In case you forgot, I spend _way_ more time under the iron than you do. You _are_ worried you’ll lose, aren’t you? You can admit it, you know.” Nora grinned impishly at the brewing fury in Pyrrha’s expression. Pyrrha would never admit it, but Nora could play her like a fiddle when she set her mind to it.

“No, I am not. Look, if you _insist_ , I suppose we can-”

“Yes!” Nora pumped a fist, beaming in triumph. “Race you to the gym?” Without so much as waiting for a reply, she raced off.

Pyrrha shook her head and wondered what, exactly, she had gotten herself into.

By the time she arrived the gym, an audience was already gathering. It seemed Nora hadn’t been content to let their contest remain between the two of them. Naturally. She strode across the mat with a sigh and a rueful grin, squeezing through the assembled gawkers to find her teammate waiting before an array of increasingly ridiculous weights.

She cocked an eyebrow. “Nora, you don’t really mean to lift those, right?” She pointed to the far end of the lengthy row of equipment. “That last one is designed for semblance training. It weighs nearly a ton!”  
“I mean, I don’t _expect_ to lift it. I figure you won’t make it through half of these.” Nora grinned at the way her words cause Pyrrha’s jaw to set. A chorus of _oooh_ s from the still-growing crowd of students didn’t help matters any.

Without another word, Pyrrha moved to the first weight in the assortment, squatting and hoisting it overhead with ease. She cocked her eyebrow, then tossed it across to Nora. She caught it single-handed, curling it a couple times with a smirk before letting it fall.

The mat compressed around it where it landed.

From there they moved ever higher, until the weights were enough to test even Pyrrha’s prodigious strength. The contest turned serious, their audience quiet as Pyrrha crouched before the third largest of the set. She checked the cumulative weight, as measured by a small display centered on the bar. 225kg was approaching the limit of what she had lifted without the aid of her semblance, but she wasn’t about to back down now. Before she could lift it, though, Nora’s hand on her shoulder caught her attention.

“Easy there champ. Who was it who was worried about someone hurting herself? Let’s move this to the bench.”

Pyrrha rolled her eyes but complied. She busied herself getting comfortable as several of the assembled students joined forces to haul the impressive weight over to her. She felt the padding on the bench flatten itself as soon as the weight came to rest on her hands, but her grip remained steady. Nora moved to spot her as she slowly, carefully lowered it to her chest, holding for a second before beginning to raise it once more. She breathed smoothly, straightening her arms until the weight was lifted from her hands. Nora took her place, repeating the feat with apparent ease.

Pyrrha eyed the next weight with concern. It was nearly twice the size of the one before it. Their audience struggled with the weight, dragging it slowly across the mat. A muffled conversation ended with Yang being briefly pummeled, then carting the weight over herself, its bulk slung across her shoulders. Pyrrha swallowed hard as it came to rest on her hands. The bench itself groaned in protest, and doubtless would have crumpled were it not for the various dust sigils reinforcing its frame.

The audience went silent the moment Yang’s hands left the weight, watching in breathless anticipation. Pyrrha huffed a strained breath, fighting to maintain control. The thought of using her semblance was tantalizing, promising to strip away the strain on her aching muscles with just a flicker of her aura, but she refused to give in. She would best Nora on her own terms, or not at all.

Her arms shook, only slightly, as she began to lower the crushing weight. At the bottom of the lift she nearly panicked, but resolve tempered by years rigorous training held her in check. She steadied her breathing once more, pressing upwards with every scrap of strength she could muster. Slowly, painfully slowly, it began to give way to her efforts, rising inch by shaking inch until her arms were rigid in front of her.

Then the bench shook, and Pyrrha glanced down in alarm to see Nora bracing herself beneath it.

“N-Nora?” she choked, trembling under the weight, “What are you-”

Then Nora _lifted_. Pyrrha gasped as the bench shifted, groaned from the strain, and began to rise. She fought to keep the swaying weight steady as they rose with unnerving ease. A quiet “hup” from beneath her was the only warning she got before Nora shifted to a squat and began to stand.

_This is how legends happen_ , Pyrrha thought as she continued to rise.

Life is seldom as forgiving as legend, however, and at that moment the door of the gym burst open to reveal a scowling Glynda Goodwitch. To her credit, Nora didn’t drop the bench.

“And just _what,_ may I ask, is going on in here?”

The audience vanished. It was astounding how quickly they managed to evacuate, really.

By some miracle, Pyrrha managed to speak through the strain.

“Uh… training?”


	10. Closer (Ruby/Pyrrha)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a prompt by non-binary-dragons over on tumblr

She had always been so _untouchable_. Pyrrha Nikos, a legend among huntresses and a goddess among warriors. She was crimson heat, every flicker carefully controlled.

Compared to her, Ruby couldn’t shake the feeling that she was just… typical. Just a huntress, just a fighter, just a girl with a big curvy knife. _Just._

Nights passed slow and cold in her empty apartment; she hadn’t realized how much she’d miss living with her team until they were already packing, heading off together to a shared home. Ruby couldn’t blame them – they were dating, and rather _physical_ about their relationship, and having Ruby in the background would just make it… _weird._ Still, no rationale would disperse the feeling of abandonment, lingering like a halo of dust around her shoulders.

She spent weeks working up the courage to go to one of Pyrrha’s tournaments, chiding herself continually for making such a big deal out of it.

 _It’s just a tournament, you’re just going to support her_. _That’s all._

 _Just an ordinary fan, sitting in an ordinary seat at an ordinary tournament_.

_Nothing special._

She won, of course, beaming in the center of the arena and waving to the cheering crowd as her vanquished opponent struggled to scrape himself from the floor. She was radiant, glorious in her element.

Ruby tossed another piece of popcorn into her mouth, and thought about greatness.

She didn’t notice Pyrrha’s gaze fall upon her, or the way her amiable smile grew tense.

Ruby sat in the stands long after the tournament had ended, mired in thoughts of a future alone, pooling in her mind like thick sludge until the sharp creak of protesting plastic beside her startled her from her worry. Pyrrha had sat beside her, dressed in a simple hoody and sweatpants, fiddling with the loose cap of her water bottle.

“P-Pyrrha! Hi! I… uh… good job out there!” Too _close_ too _soon_ she wasn’t _ready for this._

No amount of preparation would have prepared her for the softness in Pyrrha’s eyes, the concern and apprehension in the crease of her lip under the soft bite of her teeth.

“Ruby, I feel like… there may be something we should talk about.” _I want to talk to you_. “But perhaps… this is not the place? They will be shutting down the stadium soon. Maybe… we could talk over coffee?”

Ruby’s heart thrummed in her chest, and for a moment, she didn’t feel so typical.


	11. She Keeps Me Warm (Weiss/Yang)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from excusemethatsnotcanon on tumblr

Ice wreathed Weiss’s heart, deep enough to chill her, blood and bone, no matter the weather.

Cold halls, tiled in cold marble. Cold smiles on servants’ faces, so cold she swore she could see their breath fog in the air.

Her father’s cold judgement, cold shoulder, cold _everything._

Everything in her life was so, so cold.

And somehow with a simple smile, a friendly touch, Yang cut through the rime on her soul like it had never been there to begin with. Her warmth was intoxicating, and Weiss was drawn ever closer to it.

She asked Yang, once, after Ruby’s drunken lout of an uncle had deemed her _ice princess_ if Yang thought she was too cold.

Yang cupped a hand against her jawbone, ran a tender thumb along her cheek, only just brushing the end of her scar.

Yang told her, in the softest voice she’d ever heard from that mouth, that she _was_ cold. Cold like frigid water after a workout, like an offshore breeze. Cold in all the ways that let Yang run hot, knowing a cool touch would never let her burn out.


	12. Burning Bridges (Emerald/Ruby/Blake, though its not very shippy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a prompt by aresmarked on tumblr

Damn Cinder. Damn her right on back to whatever lousy hell she crawled out of in the first place. Emerald _thought_ she had covered herself well enough, hid her shifting feelings behind a veneer of cool detachment. There shouldn’t have been any reason to call her loyalty into question. Of course, that assumed Cinder would _need_ a reason. Cinder was always watching her, like a hawk eyeing the turned back of its prey, already tasting the torn flesh and cooling blood.

And now she had given her _this_ job, of all things. Sure, sabotage and subterfuge were pretty much Emerald’s _thing_ , but Cinder’s fondness for cruelty had her wondering if maybe, just maybe, this was a test.

Emerald slipped through Beacon’s darkened halls, silent and swift, muscle memory handling the movements as her mind ran through a thousand thousand thousand maybes. There were only hours left until Cinder’s plan came to fruition, and when it did the whole of Beacon would be fighting for their lives.

The door to team RWBY’s dorm opened and shut without so much as a whisper, and Emerald sat stock still in a shadowed corner, listening intently. Nothing.

It would be havoc, and if anyone, no matter how skilled, was to survive, they would need to be at their absolute best. Emerald stalked forward, found her mark, and hesitated. She ran a single finger along Crescent Rose’s folded bulk, remembering the times Ruby had gleefully listed all the most recent modifications she’d made to it. She rolled the tiny explosive Cinder had provided in her fingers. Not enough to harm Ruby, but certainly enough to render her cherished weapon worthless.

Not enough to give away Cinder’s foul play, but enough to steal away Ruby’s teeth until the Grimm swarmed over her, biting and tearing and-

Cold steel pressed against Emerald’s throat, a razor edge caressing the pulse-point.

“That’s far enough, Sustrai.” A whisper like sandpaper on stone, close enough for the breath to brush her ear. “Drop the bomb.”

A soft thump against the carpet, deafening in the silence.

“I wasn’t… I didn’t want to.”

“And yet here you are, about to slip a bomb into Ruby’s weapon. You know she loves you, right?”

“I… yeah, I know. That’s kinda the reason I didn’t… I don’t know.”

The edge of pressure left her neck, and she turned around. Blake, amber eyes glowing faintly in the dark, watched her face. Emerald wondered what she was looking for. She could feel her options running out. One way or another, she was burning bridges.

What mattered, then, was who she’d be left with when the smoke had all cleared.

She thought of the months that she had passed in her assumed life at Beacon, of Ruby’s infinite kindness and Blake’s unending patience. She recalled the times her doubts had brought her nightmares to boiling point, and she’d woken in a cold sweat to find a dark figure already at her bedside, ready to comfort and calm her even when she couldn’t explain what was wrong. She thought of the hours of still quiet, curled in Blake’s lap in the shadow of a tree, reading until sunset gave them cause to move.

Cinder’s fury, Cinder’s distrust. The ruthlessness lurking behind Mercury’s coy smile, and, well, _Neo_. Not much to elaborate on there.

Burning bridges, right? Just her friends and a whole lot of Grimm on this side.

“Blake, I… need to do some betraying.”

“Seems to me you’ve been doing _that_ for a long time now.”

“Yeah, I… I know. I won’t try to pretend otherwise, but…” Emerald lifted her eyes from where they had rested on the carpet, meeting Blake’s luminous glare. “I think it’s time for me to hijack a train, if that makes sense to you.”


	13. Comet Trails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set sometime after My Heart At Your Right Hand

Yang had always known, somewhere in the back of her mind, that one day she’d be having this conversation with the little tyke. She had all of Ruby’s fire and all of Blake’s keenness, rolled into a tiny package whose favorite seat was always Auntie Yang’s lap.

Yang could see the conversation coming, sense its approach in the unchecked intensity of the silver eyes watching her face, the way those tiny hands began to reach for her cheeks and neck at every opportunity.

”Auntie Yang?”

“Yes, dear?”

“What’s on your face? I don’t have stripes on mine, but you do.”

Yang thought for a moment, exaggerating her contemplation and coaxing a giggle out of the tyke on her lap, before snapping her fingers dramatically and replying.

“They’re comet trails.”

“Comet trails?” Despite the question, Yang could see awe begin to creep onto her face, amazement sliding onto features that looked _so much_ like Ruby had at that age.

“Yep! Comet trails. See how they shine?” She tilted her head back and forth, slowly enough for the light to dance, just a bit, on the strips of pale tissue running down her face and neck.

A soft _wow,_ drawn out under her breath. “Did they hurt? Mama says comets come from the sky, so...”

Yang ruffled her hair, flashed a toothy smile. “Everything hurts when it falls from heaven, kiddo. It’s a long ways up.”


	14. Good Morning (Pyrrha/Emerald)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a prompt by excusemethatsnotcanon on tumblr

Pyrrha woke to the quiet vibration of her scroll, buzzing gently with her 5:30 alarm. She slipped out of bed as quietly as she could, tapping off the alarm and changing into a more fitting outfit for her morning jog. A few minutes of silent stretching and she was out the door just before six.

The room was still once more until just after seven, when an ex-thief with sleeping habits as light as her fingers blinked awake. It was always a minor challenge for her to extract herself from Ruby, who was a determined cuddler, but she had a fairly good track record.

Emerald slipped out to the kitchen, silent as a passing shadow, and started the oversized coffee pot they all shared. Pyrrha returned before long, glistening with sweat and with a glow in her cheeks, and cast a smile at Emerald where she sat in her favorite overstuffed chair, reading over some news story or another with a cup of steaming black coffee.

“Those reading glasses look great on you, you know.”

Emerald rolled her eyes, but grinned back, just a little. “Yeah, yeah. You keep saying that, one of these times I might even believe you. Still, it beats squinting at everything.”

“I’d imagine. Are any of the others up yet?”

“Ha! No, not on a day off. Ruby won’t be up before nine, and you know Penny’ll stay in bed just to cuddle.”

“… And Weiss won’t get up until she smells breakfast, so I suppose that’s that. In _that_  case, I’m taking a shower. Care to join me?” Pyrrha added with a smirk.

“Are you this much of a temptress with the others or is it reserved for me? Because a girl could get used to that kind of temptation.”

“I can’t help it if you’re the most fun to tease, Emerald.”

An hour later breakfast was sizzling away, bacon and eggs and biscuits and gravy all coming together with the skilled efforts of two towel-wrapped huntresses.


	15. Home, Or Something Like It (Emerald/Ruby/Blake)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a prompt by narfoonthenet on tumblr

“You two didn’t _have_  to stay, you know that, right?” Emerald’s grin had a note of sadness to it as she watched the snow fall gently, silently out the window.

Warm arms encircled her, and she fiddled idly with the black ribbon encircling one forearm.

Ruby giggled lightly from across the room, where she was changing into pajamas that were clearly at least two sizes too big for her. “Of course we didn’t _have to_ , Em. We _wanted_  to. Besides, Weiss and Yang are off being all- oop,” she paused, fighting for a moment with the enormous shirt, “all lovey-dovey, so we figured we may as well stay here and do the same thing!”

Emerald chuckled under her breath, leaned back with her eyes closed to rest her head against the crook of Blake’s neck. Blake pressed a soft peck to her temple, and she smiled. “You two spoil me.”

A murmur in her ear, the warm breath enough to make her shiver lightly. “We both know what it’s like to be alone, Emerald. We aren’t about to abandon you at Beacon over break.”

Emerald hummed, nuzzled in a bit closer to Blake’s neck. “Well in any case, I’m grateful. I would have missed you two a lot.”

Before long they were nestled together in bed, buried beneath the soft weight of every blanket in the room arranged into a veritable nest. Ruby lay between her girlfriends, enjoying the warmth they radiated and the simple intimacy. Soon she had drifted to sleep in the comfortable embrace, though not before stealing a brief kiss from both Blake and Emerald.

Emerald watched her sleep with a tender smile and half-lidded eyes. Sometimes she still couldn’t quite believe how things had all worked out, how anyone with a past as rough and troubled as hers could wind up in the arms of two people who were just so _good._

A soft whisper caught her ears. “Hey, Em.”

Blake was watching her, golden eyes seeming to glow in the darkened room. _Beautiful._

“We love you. However much you think we love you, we love you even more than that.” She leaned over Ruby’s sleeping form to press a soft, lingering kiss to Emerald’s lips. “We’ll never abandon you. Ever.”

Emerald smiled into the kiss when it returned, enjoying the faint hint of licorice on Blake’s lips. Flavored lip balm, a present from Ruby. “I’d like that, I think. Been a while since somewhere felt like home for me, but you two… You feel like home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this ship... i love it


	16. Good Night (Nora/Pyrrha)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a prompt by alexander-the-amazing on tumblr

It had been a long, long day, even by the standards of a pair of professional huntresses. An _official_ pair, now. Pyrrha grinned at the thought, admiring again the intricate patterns on the new cuff adorning her left wrist. The thought of its match on Nora’s right sent a flutter of giddiness through her chest.

The ceremony had been simple, as simple as she could convince Nora to keep it. She’d had quite enough grandiosity in her tournament days, and a simple wedding shared with close friends suited her perfectly. Nora’s touches had been evident in the perhaps-excessive decor and the “cake,” if something that required three people to wheel out could still be considered a cake. Between Nora and Ruby, there had hardly been any left over. It had been a whirlwind of a day, dizzying and chaotic and perfect, as perfect as she could have hoped.

Now they were alone, quiet and peaceful at last. Nora was in the shower of their apartment, scrubbing the last of the cake out of her hair, while Pyrrha got comfortable. She changed into her usual nightwear and settled into their bed with her scroll, flicking idly through photos of her friends from the wedding with a contented grin.

Ten minutes later, though, she noticed Nora’s conspicuous absence. Nora was a quick bather, generally, and she had been adamant about making tonight _special_. A fifteen minute shower was odd. Pyrrha clicked off her scroll with a sigh and a shake of her head, and headed to the bathroom to check on her wayward wife.

“Oh, Nora…”

Asleep. She had fallen asleep in the shower and was slumped over the edge of the bathtub, warm water still cascading down her back. Pyrrha cocked her head with a small grin and turned off the water, drawing a mild hum of protest from her wife.

“You can’t sleep in the shower, sweetheart. Come on, up you go.”

Once Nora had managed to haul herself out of the tub, Pyrrha fetched an oversized towel and set about gently patting her down. Nora had a well-earned reputation as one of the most high-octane individuals to ever grace Beacon, but even the most dazzling of fireworks have to go dark sometime. When she crashed, she crashed hard.

She stood in the middle of the bathroom, eyes half-lidded and swaying slightly, as Pyrrha busied about toweling her off. When she was dry, or dry enough at least, Pyrrha shepherded her into her sleepwear and then to bed, where she thumped into the thick sheets and was still. A bit more fussing from her wife – _her wife_ , Pyrrha couldn’t get over how much she liked being that – had Nora tucked in properly, nestled beneath layer after layer of downy softness.

Pyrrha joined her, scooted close to share her warmth. Somewhere under Nora’s breath, she caught a sleepy mumble, something about making tonight _special_.

Pyrrha chuckled and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Every night I share with you is special, my dear, and we’ll have many, many more of those.”


	17. Vernal Equinox

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a prompt by aresmarked on tumblr

The elevator doors slid shut with a subtle hiss, and Winter sagged. _Dust_ , how she hated those _damned_ old men. A gloved hand dragged down her face as she heaved a ragged sigh, leaning her weight against the comforting coolness of the elevator’s wall. Too many memories.

She was supposed to be stronger than this. She had hardly seen her father since joining the military, and she had thought time would heal the wounds his hands had scored.

Even after years apart, though, she still heard his voice when Ironwood’s grew hard, still bit her tongue till it bled to keep from flinching away.

Weiss.

Oh, dust, _Weiss_. How cold the embers that must burn in her chest, trapped in that frigid prison of a home with only her father and a legion of empty-faced servants. Beacon was salvation for Weiss, a chance at life beyond her father’s looming grasp, and yet… Winter knew how deep the ache ran, how long it lingered.

She glanced to her right hand, where a smudge of pale makeup still tarnished the dark leather.

_Shit_. Without even noticing it, she was slipping into the same horrid patterns that had singed her all through her youth. Worse yet, she was turning them on her sister, of all people. _Why?_

She collected herself as the elevator drew to a smooth halt, set the mask of professional impassivity securely in place.

Why would she turn on her sister like that, when she knew full well the harm it did? Did she see herself in Weiss’s young face, and thus turn to the only treatment she’d received at that age? Was she simply lashing out at anything _Schnee_ , anything that brought her father’s hated face to mind?

Whatever the reason, Weiss deserved better. Winter resolved that she would have to… apologize.

* * *

Across Beacon, Weiss dragged her hands across her scalp, through her hair. _Winter_. She cursed herself for how she idolized her elder sister, how the craving for her approval burned in her blood. Winter had always been so _strong_ , so _perfect_ , and even when it went unspoken the flint in her father’s eyes had always chanted _why aren’t you her_.

And now Winter was here, at Beacon, and despite the glimmers of warmth that crept through the façade she was still so _cold_. Cold like her father.

Weiss rubbed at the tender spot on her head.

And for her part all the words had fled Weiss’s tongue. All the lines she had prepared, all the stories she might have told, all the secrets she might have confided, all had run away, chaff in the wind of the airship’s engines. For so long, Winter had been her only lifeline in the gilded cage of Schnee manor, and now she was drifting away, and Weiss found herself helpless to stop it.

A knock sounded at the door of the empty dorm, and Weiss shook the cobwebs from her thoughts. She opened the door to see her sister waving goodbye to a second-year student – Velvet, was it? – with a smile. A _genuine_ smile, one that Weiss couldn’t understand. It dropped away when she turned to regard Weiss, and she stepped into the room, drew the door shut behind her.

“Weiss… we should talk.”

Bitter retorts were bitten back in favor of a simple, “Yes, sister?”

Winter glanced around the empty room, and the tension dropped from her posture with a sigh. “I mean _really_ talk, Weiss. Like we used to.” She smiled at Weiss, a _real_ smile, and it felt like the first bloom of spring.


End file.
